


Stuck.

by sultryzucchini



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Also on Tumblr, Car Sex, Fluff and Smut, For the momentary high, Gen, Multi, Oneshot, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, insecure MC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-14 21:41:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29673684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sultryzucchini/pseuds/sultryzucchini
Summary: You just wanted to go home. Good thing he found you when buses stopped rolling at this late of hour.Who knows, he might just give you that joyride you will never forget.
Relationships: Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin)/You, Levi Ackerman & Reader, Levi Ackerman/Reader
Comments: 8
Kudos: 35





	Stuck.

10:37 PM and you don’t want to be stuck in this office cubicle any longer.

You paused the audio of the news, creeped out about the recent and rising arsons on big companies just a few blocks away.

The silence was deafening without the news as your background noise.

It slipped your mind that the last bus was long gone at 10 pm. You didn't like the idea of taking a cab, as you have this innate fear that they're not going to take you to the place as you call them. Maybe you can call someone to take you home? You could call Petra to fetch you but she's probably asleep right now.

Hange? She's busy in another branch’s lab.

Mikasa or Jean? The interns pulled off consecutive all-nighters this week to warrant a good night's sleep. You don’t want to impose so much on your team.

Your mom? She’s can't catch a plane just to fetch you, are you out of your mind?

That leaves your boss— get real darling, you can’t order Levi around and ask him if he can take you home. He’d gone home hours before, and you’ll call him for what? Because you’re scared of taking a cab? Have some shame.

You heard a click; the poor-lit office floor full of tables and random dividers suddenly looked unsettling to you. A small movement was caught in your periphery that made you stay still. _Too_ still you forgot to breathe. You anticipated every movement in the whole space jailing you.

Come to think of it, it’s so easy to point out your location by the brightness of your computer screen, while you can’t see whoever, or _wherever_ that movement came from.

Or if it started to move elsewhere.

Bur you’re _so_ sure that someone’s watching you.

You didn't bother taking anything else; you crawled, trying to fit in the narrow aisles of what the space of tables allowed for mobility. Maybe the kind guard downstairs? No, he’s gonna tell his presence with a flashlight, or sudden opening of lights, and heavy thuds of his shoes.

This was different. The thuds were too quiet it felt like the silence of the footsteps were _deliberate_.

You wanted to scream, but your body begged to breathe and focus on the flight instead of getting whoever’s attention. You crawled— your hands served as navigator of the dark.

The footsteps were closing in.

You hid under a random desk, your palms in your mouth to stop the shallow breathing. Maybe a co-worker working overtime too? This could be a whole misconception of danger in your head due to the stress you're under for the last few days...

Or it could be that arsonist the news had been talking about.

_Please, someone, get me out of here. I wanna go home._

_Mom._

_Papa._

_Hange._

_Petra._

_Somebody._

"Lev—"

"What are you doing?" You saw Levi's stance as he turned on the lights, now finding yourself in a corner of the room. The tremors have not yet subsided, the dirt on your skirt and the loose strands of hair in your ponytail stuck out like sore thumb. He said something again, but you can't make out the things he was saying. His words were in slow passing, the strength of your knees gone and can't lift you up.

Your relief out in a whimper.

"Surprised?" He squatted to level his eyes on you, probably discerning that something was wrong.

"Oh fuck..." You muttered under your breath, catching it. The tremors were not subsiding, and the hairs on your forearm was tensed likened to your shoulders. "Thought I'll die..."

"You didn't. What are you doing here? It's long past out."

You tried to prop yourself up, but your knees didn't allow you to. He stood, taking your forearm to stabilize yourself. "I was about to go home..."

"You have a car?"

"I-I commute."

"At this time? By a cab?" He pulled you up, and you were grateful for the help. "Do you have any sense of danger in your mud pile of brain shit?"

"I d-don't have a choice." you balled your hands to a fist to stop the tremors, internally scolding yourself upon realizing that this was tone of the few _rare_ times Levi had seen you so vulnerable for your comfort.

Why was he so good with timing?

"There're incidents of arson and assault just a few blocks away. You could've taken your work at home or are you capable of thinking that far?"

"I could've," You said, it crossed your mind, but can you imagine going home with 2 bags of papers and reporting for work in the morning with 3? Your back and your shoulders will curse you.

"Guess I was right."

"What are you doing here?" You asked him, aware that he has not yet relinquished his touch to your forearm. It burned, goddamnit, and you _didn't like_ that you _liked_ the skin contact. It didn't feel like a 'touch me more' kind of feeling, rather it was... you don't have a word for it. Your insides stopped churning, the skin he touched tingled in warmth and yet it was welcoming.

"Forgot something. Come on." There was disappointment when you lost all skin contact, but you were elated when he told you to get your stuff.

"But there's something I need to buy first."

* * *

Can someone give you a reason why someone needs to buy groceries in the middle of the night? Sure, food stuff, but _cleaning supplies_?

And he emitted that aura like he was careful what stuff to buy. This wasn't the look of a discerning housewife who wanted the best for her family, this was the look of a _warrior_.

He looked like he was going to war.  
Where? Bathroom?  
Against who? Germs?

"Um, you're cleaning tonight?"

"Shut up, I'm trying to read the labels."

"Can you even pronounce what's in the label?"

"If it sounds complicated to say, it must be good." You tried hard to refrain from laughing. His logic sounds about right.

"Drop it if you see alcohol in the label. It doesn't do shit for your bathroom."

"So suddenly you know these stuff too huh?"

"Of course." You picked up the same product he was looking at. "Look for hypochlorites. They can pretty much take most microbes, they're fast acting and doesn't leave toxic residues. They're effective for removing stain too."

"You're a chemist now?"

"No." You checked out another product. "I used to check everything in my last job out of curiosity. Figured it might help to know a little about what I'm working with and it just became a habit." You were a marketing strategist in Marley before quitting for Survey Corp. That was a brutal, Spartan-ish, cutthroat kind of nightmare. Survey Corp. wasn’t much different, but at least they’re not hungry for recognition to be sent to the HQ. Oh, they’re much friendlier too.

"In short you're nosy."

"In a healthy way. Here." you gave Levi a bottle. He moved closer that your arms touched, his eyebrows furrowed, listening intently as you point out what chemicals help in cleaning, and what don't.

"These stuff you avoid," You pointed out the chemicals in the bottle he was holding. Your glance turned to a stare as his question piled up before you. His eyes, that you thought were gray, had some blue in them, and was that even possible? Have a combination of blue and gray eyes?

How does this look like, shopping for cleaning supplies like a couple in a random supermarket in midnight?

_Nope, bail out, nope nope nope, no feelings._

"... avoid this thing?"

"Hmm?" He continued to stare at you, and you gave him a random answer, embarrassed of your thoughts. You were basically imagining this guy was your husband, and that was so wrong in so many levels because one: he's your boss, two: he’s so cold, most women needs a ray of sunshine who can make you laugh cared for, and he’s not that…

And three? You were running out of excuses.

"I'll... take this." you took a random stuff to buy, distracting you by how bright his eyes were and how good he looked in a freaking white shirt and random gray pants.

"Your answer wasn't responsive."

"Some things in the world don't make sense." Indeed, you told him, walking off to another aisle.

You bit your lip in hopes to calm the beating banging on your chest. The banging felt soothing and that was what alarmed you. You can't, you just can't. It doesn't make sense. You once asked your mother how she knew she was falling in love to your papa.

And you didn't want her silly talk to be true, right now, in a supermarket aisle, between sacks of rice and cleaning supplies.

* * *

And so, he took you home.

“Somethin’ on my face?” He knew you were looking. For how long? You hoped he didn’t have a good guess. You tried to salvage your pride by not looking at him and being casual on the fact that you’re in _your_ boss’s car, but you’re failing miserably. You can hear the smug even if he hadn’t said anything, but the way he tilted his face at an angle?

Yeah, he knew you were checking him out.

“We’re here.”

“Uhh, yes. Thanks sir.” _You pressed the seatbelt to eject…_

“I still want those 6-month proposals on for summer ads I told you to write first thing in the morning.” _…but the thing didn’t budge._

_Shit._

“Uh, sir?” He rested his head on the cushion, ignoring you.

“Sir?” You tried again, but he closed his eyes.

“Levi.” You clicked the _da_ mn thing again. No response.

“What? You’re still here?” He growled, and you looked up just in time to meet his opening eyes. “You brain fried—”

“It’s stuck.” He looked at the seatbelt, then you. “C-Can you get it out?”

He sighed before leaning in, the length of his fringe your forehead every time you steal a glimpse how he’s doing with that button. What exactly was he doing? You didn’t know, but you _memorized_ that grounding smell of cedarwood, combined with the scent of freshly laundered linen was intoxicating enough you forgot being stuck here was a problem.

Oh, he has long, straight eyelashes. You wonder if he looks like his mom.

There’s a lot of things you wonder about him, and in the long years you worked with him, there’s only a few things you got to know. The way he wants his tea, the rice meals he prefers his lunch, his _tch_ when he disapproves, that he smiles a little when he sees polished surfaces… that he likes cleaning at midnight and now, you’re wondering what you can learn in this little favor you owe him.

“Get me that scissor—”

“Levi, have you ever considered anyone?”

You hugged your bag of papers for dear life. Good Lord— you didn’t mean to ask it out loud! He looked at you for a moment, probably wondering what you meant, or why even ask that in the first place, but when he answered, it sounds definite you almost, _almost_ feel disappointed.

You’ve been working for him for a long time, after all.

 _“No,”_ He whispered, adjusting the way he seated to level the way his eyes would look into yours. “I could _look_ at her and she’s still not gonna bat a damn eye because she’s just so dense.”

“Sorry?”

“See? Dense.”

You committed this to memory.

Gray eyes, the way his features were contoured against the car light…

It was almost perfect.

His eyes traced your features. His hand still choking the metal of the seatbelt, tightening until fist balled against the reins.

“What?” The pieces fell in place.

The last thing you heard was the ripping of the seatbelt, and his calm, yet commanding whisper.

“Come here.”

He yanked you by the arm; his seat was pushed as far as it can go, and he straddled you in front of him. Bags of papers forgotten, he peppered kisses where your button blouse would expose skin, one hand pinched the hook of your brassiere and his fingers traced your body.

The body you pretended to love.

From your waist to your breasts.

From your clavicles sideways to your neck.

He mapped kisses and left no cranny untouched with his tongue. His fingers were cold, in contrast to his warm, tickling breath. His eyes were hazy, your breathing was hampered and you knew your expression mirrored his.

“Look at me.” He whispered before his lips would travel from the bottom of your curves and mounds of flesh; did it over and over before ending each time with bruises by the sucking of his mouth.

You could giggle when the bastard was polite to lick an apology right after.

And all this time, you watched him adore the body that worked tirelessly to get his attention.

You clutched the headrest while the car seat leaned at an angle. A hand crawled inside your skirt; his fingers draw lines against your thighs, his lips now busy with yours, then gone to explore again.

You were proud when you _felt_ the effect you had on him.

Rustling of fabrics, the zipping sound of something opening, you felt pressure of him between your thighs. Nuisance fabric of your underwear was the thinnest, and the most annoying piece of obstacle until he toyed with you all while keeping _this_ fabric against your skin.

Then drawn it aside.

Breathing uneven, toes curled, you peered at him when he told you to prop a little, your short lost of focus was when he slipped his fingers in, and continued tracing your folds deep enough to keep you slick, but light enough to keep you wanting more.

You leaned on him, that chuckle he did made you twitch and tighten around the stroke of his fingers. He added another, occasionally dipping deeper before tracing little circles on your bundle of nerves.

And before you felt that wave of pleasure, he let you go, yet he kissed you like all he wanted was you right then, at that very moment.

You want this, this desperate and adoring vision of him.

He eased you inside; no warning, no pause to let me adjust to his greedy need of space.

You had to kill off the light and cover your mouth or your neighbors will know how restless you were with every wave-like motion your hips did to meet all his length.

His fingers dug in your waist, dictating the pace and how deep you’re allowed to have him. Frustrating, satisfying, slow, fast but all of them made you tighten and eager to find your release. His lips travelled wherever it can until it find itself in your ear. His huffs became growls, and growls became quiet curses.

And then it became sharp exhales.

You didn’t mean to bite his shoulder and he probably never meant to bruise your thighs, but it happened, all while you felt him spill warmth inside you.

By the walls, you could slap yourself for allowing him to do that.

And slowly, your breathing regained its pace.

“I still want those articles later.” The way he said your name sounded different, almost comical all while he buttoned your shirt then fixed his zipper.

“I’ll get them to you first thing in the morning.” He caressed your cheeks, his eyes steady and discerning against yours.

It could be an illusion, but you took it as it was.

_An illusion._

“Get out, I’m not carrying you in front of your damn door.”

“Of course, good night sir.” You pressed the seatbelt to eject, but the damn thing didn’t budge.

Your heart raced. It’s becoming trueee!

“It’s stuck.” He looked at the seatbelt, and you anticipated that he will look at you, just the way you committed _that_ illusion to memory.

***


End file.
